


Bound by Empty Hearts

by WitchZakuro



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV), True Blood (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blood and Gore, Godric Lives (True Blood), M/M, Multi, Not Beta Read, Sookie Stackhouse Bashing, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Vampire Bites
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:40:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29397786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchZakuro/pseuds/WitchZakuro
Summary: Damon always had a strange name on his wrist and a painful longing in his heart. He is sent away to a new world, with different vampires and a new soulmate. It might be too much for him.Eric always new his mate would come one day, but he cant say the man hasn't surprised him. eternity will be much less boring.
Relationships: Bill Compton/Sookie Stackhouse, Eric Northman/Damon Salvatore, Godric/Jason Stackhouse
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	1. Longing

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been hunting me and I wrote it at four in the morning, I hope you like it anyway.

Damon had secrets. Things he kept from his brother, things he kept from Elena, even things he kept from Katherine. He never told Stefan about the Augustine group or what they did. He never told anyone. Like he never told his father why he deserted the army. Even once he came to Mystic Falls he kept secrets, not telling his brother about Katherine living or that he had known about Elena.   
  
Those don't hold a candle to the real secrets though. He had truly loved Katherine once, he was willing to die for her, to devote his life to her, but that time ended the moment his father shot him.   
  
He awoke differently than before he died. He woke with a name on his wrist, a curious thing. The name was small and dark, written in rough looking handwriting.  _ Eirkir Northman _ . Along with the name came the feeling, this cold empty hole in his heart where all his love for Katherine had been before. For a long time he thought the emptiness was caused by her death, that his brother's sins were heavy.   
  
Finding out she was alive made the hole grow a little more. It was obvious she was not the cause, that some part of his simply never came back after death. Her betrayal was far from the only thing to make it grow, it's the reason he never turned off his humanity more than once. After he left Enzo to burn, he thought he would be fine, he was wrong. Having the switch turned ate at his heart more and more, a longing would filled his mind, a worse torture than even Dr. Whitemore could subject him to. Humanity was less painful.   
  
That longing never left, and the hole never got smaller. It just grew more and more. When Lexi came and not Stefan, with every word of hatred his brother threw at him, with every one of his actions made him into a villain.    
  
Coming to Mystic Falls was a mistake. He was fine on his own, but he longed for his heart to be whole again, he would do anything to be warm again. He thought that if he found her, if he saved her, he would feel again. He was again wrong. Part of him hoped that Elena would save him instead. She was everything Katherine could only wish to be, and if he devoted himself to loving her, then maybe, just maybe, she would save him.   
  
Unfortunately reality is cold and cruel. Elena loves Stefan, his brother hates him, all their friends scorn him, even when he does everything he can to keep them safe. The moment he came here the emptiness started to consume him, the name on his wrist burned, the longing was a physical beast.   
  
Everything came to a head after Klaus came and tried to kill Elena. He did everything to save her and Stefan, to keep their little gang alive. He ran himself ragged, bore their disappointment for giving Elena his blood, and saved the little witch. In the end it was worthless, what did he get for his efforts? Bitten by Tyler and wasting away from a werewolf bite. Instead of the normal crazy hallucinations he had heard of, all he felt was sick, cold, and tired.    
  
His heart would never be full and he was ready for death. There was no longer a point in living this half life existence, but even death won't be peaceful for him. No, his brother had to sacrifice himself to save him, had to save his life again.   
  
All he could do was curl up on that dirty floor, at Klaus and Stefan's feet, and laugh. He laughed until he was sobbing, his entire being crying out in sorrow. He could hear them talking above him, a touch against his shoulder, his name repeated by different voices.   
  
He was done. He couldn't even die, he had no right to throw away his brother's sacrifice. He was cursed to stay alive. Cursed to live without love and to be the villain.   
  
By the time he calms down enough to look around, he finds himself alone with Bonnie. The witch is sitting before him with an unreadable expression.    
  
“I have a message from my Grandmother. She says you are in the wrong place, and has said you need to be sent to your heart. I don't know what she means, but I know i need to send you on.” He can only stare at her in confusion, his mind stalling. His heart? Send him on? Before he can voice any of his questions, Bonnie places a ring in his hand and places her hands on his temples.   
  
The witch gives him a soft, sad smile before he feels heat building in his head, growing until it crests, just barely under burning. The last thing he hears is Bonnie’s goodbye, before he falls into darkness.   
  
\--------   
  
There are three things a vampire will love before all others, their Maker, their progeny, and their soulmate. It is common knowledge that the moment a vampire rises from their grave a name is written on their wrist. The name belongs to their other half, the one being that will complete them.    
  
The name normally belongs to another vampire, but cases of weres, shifters, and even Fairies have been seen in the past. You may find your soulmate a year into your death, or three thousand years, but you either die or find your partner.   
  
The laws protecting soulmates are heavy, the punishment for knowingly and willfully killing a vampires soulmate the harshest given. When a vampire finds their soulmate a celebration is thrown and the pair is registered. If your soulmate is a different race, they are either changed or an edict is given for their protection.   
  
Despite every vampire having a soulmate, very few pairs are known. The eternal life of a vampire makes waiting for your other a simple thing. They may simply not be born for another thousand years, or they may live on the other side of the world. Soulmate marks are generally a private matter, but pairs had been found by other people in the past, maybe an acquaintance who knew both, or the Sheriff recognizing the name when one enters their territory.    
  
Eric knew he would one day find his soulmate, but he rarely thought about his other half. His Maker had yet to find his own mate for over two thousand years, there was no rush. He, like many others, did not suffer from longing. The feeling of emptiness and a need for the half you have not yet met only plagued those that had felt trauma or torture. Longing was a heartsickness, a sign you needed your other half to heal you.   
  
It was rare for a vampire to fall into longing, their very nature making loving one outside the family difficult, but Eric had seen it a few times in his life, and had even wanted to put them out of their misery. The sickness only cured when their mate found, and few vampires were willing to live so long while plagued by the sickness. Most fell to the sun or to others wanting to end their suffering.   
  
He had no need for his mate, but he knew he would cherish him when he appeared. The name on his wrist was written in beautiful cursive, reminiscent of the eighteen hundreds.  _ Damon Salvatore. _ Pam often teased him that his mate was male, due to his penitent for choosing females to sate his hungers.   
  
Truly he did not care if his mate was male, female, or something else. In the end they were his, and that is all that mattered. One day he would meet them, be it in life or death, and that was enough.   
  
For now he had a club to run and territory to watch over.


	2. Meeting

  
It has been two weeks since Bonnie dumped him in a completely different world where vampires roamed freely, known to humans and drinking synthetic blood of all things. From what he gathered the vampires here were much different than himself. They had to sleep during the day, they could only drink blood, they had an actual government, and they had been around much longer than a thousand years. He thought Klaus and his siblings were hot shit for being a thousand years old, but the sheriff of this area was already a little older than that, and others were much older as well. Not that he was able to get much more information than that.   
  
Other differences he noticed was the placement of their fangs, and that their eyes didn't change like his. Plus every vampire in Louisiana seemed right at home in a BDSM club, leather and chairs a very common theme.   
  
Because Damon could walk in the sunlight, he blended in perfectly fine with humans, it made it easy to investigate the lay of the land, a compulsion here and there, and the raven knew all kinds of dirty secrets. Vampire blood was a hot drug with a very unoriginal name. V was like mixing opium and shrooms, all while adding just a bit of supernatural abilities. Why anyone would want to take a drug that vampires would literally kill for was beyond him.   
  
Beside that, he learned of the political wars and The Fellowship of The Sun. it was like Bonnie dropped him in a world worse than Twilight, and he was stuck here as far as he could tell.   
  
Once he had enough information he was comfortable showing himself to the vampires here. Even if he was different, he knew he would have to tell the Sheriff of the area he was here. Beside that, True Blood was absolutely disgusting, and he would like to find a place to feed or get blood bags. How Mainstreamers preached living off that bottled shit with a straight face he had no idea.    
  
Though, this world had one plus. Vervain didn't exist, he couldn't even find a flower anything like it. No vervain meant his biggest weakness was no longer a worry. But it seems the universe had to balance the scales in its own way. Coming to this new world made his heart hurt and throb, the emptiness like a gaping cavern in his chest. He wanted nothing but to die, but he couldn't until he found out how he got here, and how to get back to save his foolish brother.   
  
For now he would find a quiet place to settle and research. Fangtasia was very easy to find, Shreveport was a hick city and vampire’s definitely stood out. The line to the club was almost two blocks long and he could hear the music even at the end on the line.   
  
Having no desire to wait that long, he compelled a pretty girl to let him join her at the front, just far enough away from the doorman to not be suspicious. Only one vampire was manning the door, a beautiful blond woman in six inch heels and a skin tight red dress. He would put money on the dress being designer, and the shoes more expensive than his mustang. The woman looked like she was bored out of her mind and trying very hard not to rip off someone's head.   
  
Even after seeing it before, the lack of heartbeat these vampires had was disturbing. They were still in a way he wasn't used to, much more like walking corpses than the vampires back home. It made him feel young and unsettled, which in turn made him want to crush them, but now wasn't the time for such thoughts, seeing they were next in line.   
  
The woman asked for their id, and eyes them both up. Damon gave her his most charming smirk and a wink. A sneer crosses her face before the bored mask is back, but she does let them pass. It is unlikely she put much thought into him once she heard his heartbeat, writing him off as a random Fangbanger.   
  
First things first he ditches his ticket in and heads right for the bar, getting two fingers of whisky neat from a Native American looking vampire, the man having a very similar look of boredom as the woman out front. Taking a seat at the bar, he scans the club, lots of leather and emo dancing, nothing classy at all.   
  
The only point of attraction being the blond giant sitting on a throne. Even sitting he looked like a Norse god walking amongst men. A shiver runs down his spine as he stares at him. No way this man isn't the sheriff, something about him felt heavy and old, he had a barring that the Mikaelson siblings never managed. The man was dressed in a black suit and leather jacket, the most classy thing in this bar, it was a little refreshing.   
  
This man had seen war and countless decades. Throwing his drink back, Damon stands and saunters right up to the stage. He feels many eyes on him as he knowingly breaks whatever social taboos they have. He stops right in front of the seated man and smirks at him.   
  
“I presume you are the sheriff around here?”   
  
\--------   
  
The audacity of the man standing before him was astounding. The gall to simply walk up to him in his own house, and not have the decency to look afraid, his heartbeat calm and steady. Eric had killed for much less.    
  
“Can I help you?”   
  
“I think you can, the name’s Damon Salvatore, at your service. I hear you-”   
  
In a blink he stands before the man, his wrists in a tight grip as he yanks the man's sleeves up and ignores his protests. Sure enough, on his left wrist is a name, Eirkir Northman, the name written in his own handwriting. The man, his mate, stilled the moment his mark was reviled, horror in his expression and his heart beating wildly.   
  
“Eric Northman, it is nice to finally meet you, mate.” Out of courtesy he lets go of one wrist and shows the name on his right wrist, the beautiful cursive that has adorned him for a thousand years.    
  
Without so much as asking, he places his hand over Damon’s mark, moving the shocked man's hand over his own mark. The reaction is instant, a warmth surging into his heart, a wholeness settling over his being. His mate makes a small pained whimper, his blue eyes wide and wild before they roll back and he goes limp. Catching him before he moves an inch, Eric looks out over his domain. All the vampires have gone silent, awed at witnessing such a sacred thing. Pam appears at his side, looking at his mate with a worried frown.   
  
“We are closing. Everyone out.” Leaving no room for argument, he takes his mate and his progeny out the back door, wanting nothing more than to secure his obviously vulnerable mate in his home and to call his Maker. He had never heard of someone passing out from a bond being initiated, and he hoped Godric would know what went wrong.   
  
His mate needed to be safe, he needed to be home and with family.   
  



End file.
